


It's Not Weird Unless You Make It Weird

by TheoMiller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Romantic Friendship, could be read as slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teeth-rotting cuteness. Dean comforts his angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Weird Unless You Make It Weird

**Author's Note:**

> I saw something on tumblr, and I haven't been watching Season gr8, but this was written as a response to Cas (once again) receiving the brunt of the angst/pain.

Castiel is smaller, somehow, when he reappears. He always looks small in that ridiculous coat of his, which—like his vessel—seems to be as much a part of him now as his angel blade, but he seems smaller than usual, shoulders hunched.

Dean doesn’t waste time dumping his bag on the crappy motel bed and crossing over to him, but he pauses before he reaches him and his eyes flicker over the angel. “Can I—?” Dean isn’t sure where he’s going with this, but Cas lifts his chin and then reaches out slowly. Dean moves forward, and shortly finds himself with an armful of angel. Cas awkwardly wraps his arm around Dean’s chest, but Dean goes with it willingly and holds his shoulders tightly.

“I am aware this goes against your stipulation that there be no ‘chick flick moments’,” Cas begins.

He steps back and rolls his shoulder, thinking for a moment—he doesn’t like touchy-feely crap, it’s true, and this is bound to be pretty touchy-feely. But this is _Cas_ , dammit, and he’s one of them. So he flops down on the centre of bed and pats it. “It’s not a chick-flick moment if we don’t talk.”

Cas opens his mouth to reply, and then stops himself and nods. He isn’t looking at Dean like he’s the strangest creature to have ever existed, which is actually… kind of worrying. He sits half-on, half-off the bed with rigid posture.

Steeling his very macho masculinity for the blow— _and bad,_ bad _mind for taking that route with the word_ —it’s about to take, he wraps a hand around Cas’s stone-like wrist and tugs gently. Castiel inches forward until he’s sitting next to Dean, and his entire body is half-curled towards Dean like he wants nothing more than to hug him again but isn’t sure if it’s within the realms of ‘personal space, Cas’ and Dean finds himself regretting telling the angel that so long ago, because it’s obvious he’s starved for affection.

Dean wraps an arm around Cas’s shoulders and pulls him in. Cas rests his head against Dean’s chest and his forehead against his neck. He’s still, unnaturally so, and Dean isn’t really sure where he’s supposed to go from here.

“Hey Jude,” He sings in a low voice. “Don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.”

He sings the whole song twice before he begins to feel tired, and rubs a circle in Cas’s back. “I need to sleep.”

Cas jolts up and then nods jerkily. “I’ll be back in the—”

“I just need to lie down, dude,” Dean says. “You can stay.”

“Oh,” Cas says. He looks confused.

Dean settles himself down further into the bed and lies on his side, facing Cas. “Are you going to sit there awkwardly or lie down?” He says.

The angel blinks, and then obediently removes his shoes, then his coat, and finally his tie before he joins Dean in the bed, lying flat on his back and quite still, as far from Dean as possible. “Is this acceptable?”

“Uh, I guess, but you don’t have to be halfway on the floor. Do you want me to move over?”

Cas is mirroring Dean’s position, much closer, a heartbeat later. “It’s fine,” He says.

_It’s only weird if you make it weird_ , Dean chants in his head, and does his best to relax. Once he stops thinking _I’m going to sleep next to a guy_ and starts thinking _I’m next to Cas_ , the knot of tension eases remarkably. This isn’t unlike when he and Sammy shared a bed as kids. Except Cas isn’t his brother and he doesn’t have the luxury of not remembering his terrible past, like Sam hadn’t remembered Mom when they were little. This is his best friend, and he’s lonely.

Dean closes his eyes and allows his leg to relax enough to slump against Cas’s knee.

What seems like not nearly long enough afterwards, he’s waking up on his back with sunlight against his eyelids and a warm, solid weight against his chest. “Morning,” He says slowly, and reaches down to rest a hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel rumbles. “Would you like me to move?”

“Nah,” Dean says.

“Thank you,” The angel replies, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Dean hums in acknowledgement and goes back to sleep.


End file.
